The inquest had been held at the "Lamb" at Stanton; at Stanton
Robert Ablett was to be buried next day. Bill waited about
outside for his friend, wondering where he had gone. Then,
realizing that Cayley would be coming out to his car directly,
and that a farewell talk with Cayley would be a little
embarrassing, he wandered round to the yard at the back of the
inn, lit a cigarette, and stood surveying a torn and
weather-beaten poster on the stable wall. "GRAND THEATRICAL
ENTER" it announced, to take place on "Wednesday, Decem." Bill
smiled to himself as he looked at it, for the part of Joe, a
loquacious postman, had been played by "William B. Beverl," as
the remnants of the poster still maintained, and he had been much
less loquacious than the author had intended, having forgotten
his words completely, but it had all been great fun. And then he
stopped smiling, for there would be no more fun now at the Red
House.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," said the voice of Antony behind him.
"My old friends Amos and Parsons insisted on giving me a drink."

He slipped his hand into the crook of Bill's arm, and smiled
happily at him.

"Why were you so keen about them?" asked Bill a little
resentfully. "I couldn't think where on earth you had got to."

Antony didn't say anything. He was staring at the poster.